


oh the warmth in your eyes swept me into your arms

by RainbowRandomness



Series: weep for yourself, my man [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, headcanon AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 05:01:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1886058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowRandomness/pseuds/RainbowRandomness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>She looked surprised to see him, her painted red lips forming an ‘o’ shape as Peter approached and they stood in silence until at last she whispered, “She has your eyes.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh the warmth in your eyes swept me into your arms

**Author's Note:**

> I was talking to Jodie and came up with this headcanon about the whole thing with Malia being Peter's daughter, which you can read here: http://rainbow-randomness.tumblr.com/post/90564868173/i-was-talking-to-jodie-about-why-i-think-malia
> 
> This wasn't meant to be as long as it is, trust me when I say its length surprises the hell out of me, but I really got carried away with this fic and I'm pretty proud of it, so I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> Title from the song _Winter Winds_ by Mumford  & Sons

Malia was not a Hale, that was for sure.

She didn’t even have the last name Hale to begin with. Malia was a Tate, for all intense and purposes, and would not be known as anything else, especially if her mother had anything to say about it.

Peter Hale was never married before the fire, as most would assume he was, making assumptions that perhaps his wife and child died in the flames which is why he was such a manic yet cunning and evil individual, but they were wrong. Peter had never been married, had never even entertained the thought. He had gone around, as most young men did, and tried to flirt his way through crowds of woman, charming them with his good looks and carefully chosen words until they found him irresistible and fell into bed with him. Most of those who he charmed into sleeping with him hoped their husbands would never find out, which sent an extra thrill up Peter’s spin, knowing that these woman wanted him more than the men sat at their homes with a gold band upon their fourth left finger, forgotten vows etched upon the inside of the ring.

It was on one of many occasions of looking for yet another married woman to sleep with that Peter came across a young woman with sharp caramel eyes and flowing brown locks. She had ignored him as he slid up beside her at the bar and ordered two drinks, getting another glass of the same drink she had finished moments before. He had slid the cocktail across to her, smiled as she looked up at him questioningly and introduced himself as he leaned forward slightly into her space.

Her eyes had flickered over his features, curious and cautious all at once as she informed him that she had a husband, her left hand coming up to take the offered glass he had given her, her wedding finger glinting in the low light of the bar. Peter had shrugged, smile still in place as he told her that was fine, that he would talk to her until her husband showed up. She had shaken her head, told him it was a friend she was meeting, her red nails clinking against the stem of the cocktail glass.

An hour or two later, a few cocktail drinks and a late friend saw Peter and Helen Tate in the hotel a short walk away from the bar, her hair wild and smile wide as she laughed and held his arm, her heels clicking on the pavement. A moment later and his mouth was on hers, red lipstick smeared and moans buried into bunched up bedsheets as car lights blurred outside the window as it began to rain.

Peter never gave any of these women his phone number, never tried to keep in contact with them or even remember them as anything other than a pretty face and a body that melded well with his. He never planned to ever see Helen Tate after that night, had kissed her lazily after sleeping with her before allowing her to stumble out of the bed and hurriedly redress herself to see if her friend had ever managed to get out of traffic and arrive at the bar as planned. He had watched her as she reapplied her lipstick, in the mirror above the wooden dresser that was pushed up against the opposite wall from where the bed was positioned. He could see his reflection in the large mirror, the sheets pooled low around his hips, and skin glistening slightly with sweat. What shocked him was the almost content look in his eyes as he watched her, the way he watched her openly and with a small, honest smile tugging at his lips. Peter thought about what it would be like seeing Helen again, holding her against him and kissing her again. They were ridiculous thoughts, but maybe, just maybe...

They met again a week later, in the hotel as before. Peter had slipped his number on a scrap piece of paper into her hand and had kissed her, earning a light slap to his arm for ruining her lipstick. He had smiled, kissed her nose and wished her fun with her friend before she had left. Now, as he falls backwards onto the hotel mattress, she’s above him, lips still painted red and smiling at him as she leans down and kisses him sweetly, leaving her mark against his skin.

Weeks pass and they continue to see each other, meeting up in varied hotel rooms, signing in under aliases that imply they’re a married couple looking for adventure in lavish hotel rooms, instead of exposing the truth of a man having an affair with a married woman.

On one of the occasions as they lay in bed, Peter’s arm around her shoulders, her arm across his stomach and her head resting upon his chest, she whispers about how she worries her husband might be growing suspicious. She says her and her husband had an argument about how often she was going out and spending time with her friends and he had stormed out of the house. Peter kisses the top of her head and tells her not to worry, says they can stop seeing each other so often if it will help. She seems to think about the offer for a moment before she shakes her head and Peter releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

The affair continues for months and Peter feels as though he is falling for her after each full moon passes and she is the anchor that keeps him sane. He doesn’t tell her so, doesn’t let her know how far he’s fallen, until the day she meets him again in yet another hotel room and whispers, “I’m pregnant.”

They don’t see each other as often after that. She begins to spend more time with her husband, who has no idea that the child might not even be his, and Peter closes in on himself, doesn’t attempt to open up to his family about what’s going on. Talia looks at him with concern and her children ask in whispers what’s happened to Uncle Peter. Talia’s husband even claps him on the shoulder one day and says, “It’ll be alright,” before leaving him alone again.

Malia Tate is born in late Winter, and Peter is not there to see her being born. Helen’s husband is the one who gets to hold her hand as she cries out in pain, he is the one who shakes as he is passed his new born daughter and he is the one who gets to look down at her lovingly with complete adoration and promise that he will always protect and love her.

Peter sees her for the first time when Helen is shopping in the supermarket, her basket full with baby food and other assorted baby things while Malia sleeps in the baby seat. Peter had picked up Helen’s scent when he was out and had followed it until he found her. She looked surprised to see him, her painted red lips forming an ‘o’ shape as Peter approached and they stood in silence until at last she whispered, “She has your eyes.”

He insists that he wants to stay in Malia’s life, that he has a right to see her and spend time with her, and Helen agrees with thin lips and a slight nod before she carries on shopping and Peter leaves her be, watching her walk away with his eyes on his child before he goes home.

When Malia is first brought to the Hale house, Talia greets Helen and Malia with a too tight smile as they step into the house to be introduced to the rest of the family. Laura and Derek are both playing out in the garden with their cousins from their father’s side, Talia’s husband and their cousin’s parents watching fondly from the porch. Talia smiles and tells Helen to go on through, that her and Peter will be out in a moment with some refreshments. Helen nods, her body betraying how awkward she feels, as if she is prey that has been thrown into the wolfs den, which isn’t entirely incorrect.

Talia is furious with Peter as she leads him into the kitchen and tells him how stupid he is. Her hand rests on her swollen stomach as she asks Peter in hissed anger how he could be so stupid as to sleep with a married woman and bring their bastard child into her home. He growls at her to leave them be, to put up with it before he marches out of the kitchen to rejoin Helen and their baby in the garden.

Cora is born three months later and Peter brings Helen and Malia with him to see the new baby once Talia is allowed to return home.

All of the family are there, all crowded around to coo at the newborn who rests in her mother’s arms where she sits upon the sofa. Derek and Laura are sat at their mother’s side, watching the baby’s grip tighten on Derek’s offered finger before Peter walks into the living room, Helen and Malia behind him.  Talia looks up, her lips thinning for a moment before she smiles again and allows Helen to come closer and show Malia her new cousin. She gurgles at the new buddle held in her aunt’s arms, her tiny hands reaching out as if to grab before she simply smoothes her open hand lightly against the baby’s head.

As the months and soon years pass by, it’s obvious that Malia is not entirely welcomed into the Hale home. She’s different from the rest of them in so many ways, most of her traits coming from her mother and learnt from her other father, with only small things like her eye colour and supernatural status coming from her real father.

They find out she’s a werecoyote when she is four and proudly shows her father her claws. Helen is on the porch, drinking lemonade and making small talk with Talia’s husband, so she doesn’t notice as Peter smiles at his daughter, kisses her forehead and says, “Don’t let anyone else know, okay sweetheart?”

Talia isn’t impressed when Peter tells her later that day but he brushes off her remarks as he watches Helen wave goodbye before she climbs into her car and drives home again. Talia leaves him be where he is sitting on the front porch steps and retreats inside to tend to her three children. A few hours pass before Laura comes out, sits next to him and says, “A werecoyote, huh?” and he smiles fondly as they watch the stars.

More months pass and it’s becoming more obvious to a confused Helen that something is different about her daughter. Peter brushes it off, even when Malia attempts to climb a tree at the age of five to catch a squirrel, almost succeeding before Peter catches her and tickles her until her claws retract. When he looks up, Talia is watching him from the porch and he sticks his tongue out at her, which makes her huff and roll her eyes fondly, a smile tugging at her lips.

Malia’s acceptance into the Hale family is still ongoing. Although the situation improves with time, she’s still mostly shunned by the adults of the family. They treat her well, are polite to Helen and welcome them both into their home, but she isn’t a Hale. She isn’t pack.

Peter knows this. Knows this is what Talia thinks when she looks at Malia, when she watches Helen wave goodbye and leave to return to her home where her husband waits for her. She doesn’t even know that Peter and his family are werewolves and god forbid if she found out, or discovered that her daughter was a werecoyote.

But Peter doesn’t care. He’s happy when she spends time with him and his family at his home, is happy when their daughter runs around with her cousins in the garden, her laugh gleeful and young. Laura is older now, almost an adult, and Peter can see sometimes how she slips into that mindset and treats Malia as though they are not related, but it isn’t often that that happens. She just finds it hard to cope with knowing the young child playing happily with her younger sister isn’t really family, isn’t really pack, doesn’t even share their name or understand what her family is. Malia smells like them, like their family, but there’s always the other scent of another father, another home, another life that the Hale family aren’t in, because their life is a secret world that cannot be merged with the other. It’s a fine balance that all the Hale’s struggle with but put up with for the sake of the young girl.

A few months pass and Peter is happy, until the day Helen comes over as normal and pulls him aside into the living room. Everyone is outside enjoying the sunshine and Autumn leaves, the kids cheerful screams echoing into the house. Peter knows that all the werewolves of the family will be able to hear them, but he can’t tell Helen that so he allows her to pull him away.

He doesn’t expect what she tells him. She bites her lip, can’t even look him in the eye as she says, “I’m pregnant.”

Helen ended the affair between them when she found out she was pregnant with Malia, so Peter knows this child is Helen’s husbands. He feels a cold chill run through his veins at the thought. He knows Helen has a husband, another life, and why wouldn’t they have another child together, add another to their happy family?

He must look shocked because she tentatively asks, “Peter?” her hand coming up as if to touch him before she stops, hand hovering for a moment before she brings her hand back down. He shakes his head, stutters for a moment before shaking his head again, unsure of what to say. She circles her arms around him, buries her head into his shoulder and waits until his arms come up to grip her tightly around her waist.

He doesn’t get to see Malia or Helen as much after that. He had deluded himself into thinking they were a happy little family, had tried to forget that Helen was still married to another man, always had been, and that the possibility of something disrupting their peace couldn’t happen. He begins to shut off, only opening up when Helen comes round with Malia, smiles as he plays with his daughter in the garden and shows her how to carve her name in the bark of a nearby tree with her claws. He forgets again, for a moment, that they aren’t a happy family, until he looks up again to see Helen sitting on the porch with a cup of hot chocolate, one hand lightly rubbing her swollen stomach as she watches them with curiosity.

Helen goes into labour a few weeks earlier than scheduled and is kept in the hospital for a while with her baby. Her husband and Malia stay at home and Peter wonders how she is, if Malia wonders where he is and why she hasn’t seen him in a while. He wonders if Helen’s alright, even wonders if the new baby is okay, so it’s no surprise when he turns up at the hospital one day to see her. He sneaks past the nurses and doctors, slips into her room unseen and sits beside her bed, taking her hand and stoking it with his thumb softly. She wakes up briefly and looks over at him, a soft smile pulling at her lips and he smiles in return, glad to see she’s okay. She slips back into sleep a second later, exhausted after everything that’s happened. He sits for a while, watching her, before he kisses her forehead and leaves.

He doesn’t see Malia again after that, not for a long time. Helen’s busy being a mother to her new baby, the one whose father is actually her husband instead of some stranger from a bar, a guy she ended up having an affair with. He hopes she’s okay, that she’s dealing well with the new baby, but he misses her, misses them both. Cora asks him one day where Malia is and he gives her a tight smile before telling her she’s at home. Cora doesn’t fully understand, and that’s okay, because she reaches up to kiss his cheek, patting where she kissed a second later. She can sense that he’s sad, and smiles at him brightly before telling him that Malia will be back soon, before she skips off in search of her siblings.

Malia and Helen come round one last time in December. They’re both wrapped up in scarves and hats, mittens and large coats and he lets them in, the Christmas tree twinkling lazily in the corner of the living room, the halls decorated with candy canes and other seasonal things.

“I thought we’d spend one last time together,” Helen tells him quietly as Malia begins to shed her Winter clothes and runs off in search of her cousins. Peter nods and draws Helen in for another embrace, slight tears in her eyes before she laughs and sheds her coat. Talia comes through into the hallway then, smiling warmly before asking if Helen would like some hot chocolate. She smiles as she follows Talia into the kitchen, looking over her shoulder and giving Peter a warm look before leaving him to go off in search of his daughter.

That evening is something Peter treasures and holds onto as he spends time with the one he loves and his beautiful daughter. The Christmas spirit is in the air, even though there is still a week or so before Christmas day, but it’s nice, having his family open their arms and accept the two most important people in Peter’s life into their home and into their family. Laura and Talia both joke and gossip with Helen as she sits at Peter’s side, leaning into him when his arm comes up to curl around her waist and Derek and Cora play endless amounts of ridiculous games with Malia, who laughs happily each time she wins another game.

It’s another moment where Peter tries to pretend that this is his family, his happy ever after, that once the night begins to draw to a close and everyone goes off to bed that Helen will come upstairs with him, their sleepy daughter held in her arms. He can imagine it, can almost pretend that it’s real, that they will put their daughter to bed and kiss her goodnight before falling into their bed together and sleeping curled up together until the morning.

But that’s not what happens. When it begins to get to almost ten at night, Helen gets up and calls for Malia to come put her clothes on, saying how she’s stayed too late. She doesn’t mention that she’s stayed too late and that her husband might be suspicious, but they all know that it’s the unspoken problem. They all wave her a goodbye though as Peter escorts her to her car, carrying a tired Malia in his arms as she rests her head against his shoulder. He kisses Helen one last time, makes it last for as long as he can before she pulls back with an almost sad smile and says, “I have to get home.”

She takes Malia out of his arms and puts her in the car, kisses him again and cups his cheek, strokes her thumb along the smooth skin before she climbs into her car and drives away, Peter standing in the snow covered driveway and watching until he can’t see them anymore.

*

Years pass and he doesn’t see Helen or Malia again, only catching glimpses of them now and again if he sees them in the supermarket or at the park, maybe even on the street. He tries to get back into doing what he used to, charming woman into sleeping with him but he can’t make himself do it. The few times he attempts it feels like he’s betraying Helen and Malia, so he stops bothering, doesn’t even try and find someone else to fall in love with again because his heart is always with Helen, and nothing can change that. Talia looks at him with worry and sadness, rubs his back soothingly one night and tells him it will be okay, even though they both know it won’t be really. He thanks her anyway and she gives him a small smile before making them both a warm drink.

*

He hears about the car accident when he’s at a bar, the news on the television telling him that there were three people in the vehicle at the time of the accident. The news reporter says they assume something must have ran out into the road to make the driver swerve before the car turned over and landed in the ditch by the side of the road. Two bodies were found, both female, one in her early thirties and the other a child. They have evidence to say that another child, female passenger might have been in the car as well, that the police were looking for the third body, that they hoped she might be alive.

Once the reporter said the names of the three in the accident, he practically ran from the bar until he collapsed at home.

*

“It will be okay Peter, I promise,” is what his sister tells him as he sobs into her arms at the loss of his love and daughter, before the blossoming pain of sharp claws in the back of his neck draws him into unconsciousness.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a terrible person haha, who ends a fic like that?
> 
> You can find me on twitter with @RainbowRandoms and on tumblr with Rainbow-Randomness


End file.
